Legend of the Crafter- Legend Rising
by Zenthian
Summary: Werrim, Aless, and Bessa Norn, Caerra Hyrem, and Killian Marcson all have very important destiny that will reset the Overworld, Nether and End back to peace, but first they must master their skills and fates before their newfound enemies, ancient foes, find them first.


"Werrim! Werrim!" Fifteen-year-old Werrim Norn grimaced at the high pitched sound of the voice of his eleven year old sister, Vally. It was literally impossible to get away from her. She always followed him everywhere.

"Werrim! Where are you? Father needs you with the hay field!" Werrim groaned and rose from the grass amongst the large green oak trees.

Just then Vally bounded into view, her brown pigtails bouncing up and down, and her plain brown tunic dress twirling as she spun. Vally always seemed so full of a joyful energy that made her oblivious of the stale and dirty world around her. It drove Werrim crazy of her ignorant bliss.

"What were you doing out here anyway?" Vally asked. Werrim declined to answer. He couldn't tell his sister the real reason he was deep in the woods on the far side of his family's massive farms. She would tell everyone she could, and that would only bring death to the Norn estate.

Werrim silently made his way back through the forest to the Norn farms, Vally singing and humming as they went. The Norns were wealthy farmers, they owned several hundred acres of land, most of it was wheat and melon fields. Norn could see the farm hands working in the fields, preparing for the fall harvest in a few weeks. But Werrim could make out his father working the smaller hay fields, mainly for the horses. The Norns also owned a vast herd of cows, sheep, horses, pigs and a small coup for chickens that Mother used mainly in her cooking.

"Vally, go help Mother and Aless." Werrim said, trying to get her out off his hair.

"I know, Werrim. You don't need to tell me what to do." Vally snipped, heading towards the main house.

Werrim shook his head and sighed. He could not wait to turn eighteen and get away farm this stinking farm. It seemed like he would be stuck here forever, unable to escape the Norn family business.

Werrim's father, Karhand Norn, was near the largest of the Norn's five mud brown barns that housed their harvest. The barns were molded and in desperate need of repair, several boards were hanging loosely off the walls or had fallen off completely. Karhand was loading hay with Goren Sorm and Haleve Jerrick.

Werrim still found it hard to believe that he was his father's son, Karhand was a mountain of a man, with large deeply tanned muscles and long jet black hair tied into a single braid behind his back. Karhand's beard was nearly as long, thick and gruff like a Tribal Man. Werrim was averaged sized, more taking after his mother, with light brown hair and a fair complexion. Werrim knew of his family heritage, that the Norns were originally from the Northern Tribal Mountains before they moved south to Delmeirra. Only his elder sister, Aless, inherited their Tribal Clan looks.

"Look who came out of hiding." Goren joked, coughing up some smokeleaf from his lungs. "Even Lord Starway's private life is more known than what you do in those damn woods."

Werrim chose to ignored him. Karhand was throwing a small bale of hay up to Haleve when he saw his son come strolling up to them. "Werrim, there you are. Dask needs help, a portion of the furthest hayfields caught Black Stem. Take a scythe and start cutting." Werrim nodded quietly and made his way to the tool shed.

"Hey, son." Karhand called out. Werrim stopped and turned around. "Where were you?"

Werrim's heart tugged. He wanted to tell the truth, to tell his father what he found out only last week, but that could never happen. Not unless there was some way to protect the Norn household from his secret. So Werrim just shrugged. "Just need to clear out my head."

That was all Karhand needed to hear and Werrim went back to the task set before him. After picking up scythe, Werrim found Dask of Erl'thia and few other farmhands cutting down infected black stalks of hay that oozed a slimy mucus. Black Stem killed a lot of their crops every year and it was not fun to clean up. Also it stunk very badly, like old mildew and mold only ten times stronger. Werrim would stink for days and he would never hear the end of it from Vally.

Life on the Norn farm was like this since the Kingdoms of Delmeirra and Delmine split from Delma. Werrim knew it would probably never change, that life would cycle from harvest to harvest. As far as Werrim knew, there was nothing exciting happening in the world, at least nothing that fishermen in the nearby fishing village of Jerrrot spoke of except for the gossip of the Twelve Royal Families. Delmeirra was not at war with anyone, although tensions between Delmeirra and its southern rival, the kingdom of Paxsomm, but that was normal.

But Werrim knew his life was about to change, for the better or for the worst was to be decided. Werrim had heard the old legends, the legends of the four worlds, and those who thrived in the Elder Days. In the Elder Days, Werrim's world, the Overworld, was one part of many worlds. Apparently, long ago, ancient creatures called the Endermen journeyed from a distant starry world called the End. From there, they set up colonies on the other three worlds, in the Overworld, it was called the Endstate, which was now the Delmeirran state of Endway. In the other worlds, there was the Nether, a realm where fire was just as harmful as air and there was no sky. The Nether was more like vast expansive caverns from the size of houses to the entire width of countries all connected. From what Werrim learned, then the Nether was ruled by a Netherqueen, and her subjects were two people, the warrior Pigmen as the Overworlders called them, and the brilliant Blazes, who excellent builders and smiths. The Endermen had a colony there too, although its name had long ago been forgotten, and they helped build a portal between the Nether and the Overworld, the Burning Circle on the Overworld, and Drosk Kirross on the Nether side. Werrim had seen the relic merchants in Jerrrot sell old tools and other devices that were supposedly from the Nether, like Golden Daggers or Netherrack, an blood red stone that once it was on fire it could never be put out. The Nether was famous for its Golden weaponry, which unlike Overworld gold, was ten times stronger, as well as its quartz, glowstone dust, and blaze rods. but there was not only the Nether and the End, there was Tartamos, the world of machines, home to the Iron Golems. The Iron Golems were masters of technology, who long ago created for themselves giant iron bodies to protect themselves form the constant dangers of Tartamos, such as the herds of Silverfish who lived in stones, or Slimes, living sludges who swallowed their victims whole. From Tartamos, the Golems shared the power of Redstone, which was rare in the Overworld, and was used to power their machines. During the beginning, the interaction between the worlds was tense, war was constantly on the edge, but the Endermen created peace by instituting a new race, the Crafters. From rumors in the bars, Werrim heard that these Crafters were given the souls of gods, allowing them to fly, and hard to kill, but their most famous ability was their power to create objects from thin air, to make new things just from their minds. These Crafter supposedly maintained the peace between the four worlds. Werrim didn't know much about them, there was no more Crafters, not after what they did. Or so how the story went.

Werrim had asked why it happened multiple times, but the answers were always fruitless, so Werrim just accepted that it just did happened. Long ago, when ancient empire Delma split between the kingdoms of Delmeirra and Delmine, the world suddenly Endermen vanished from the worlds, the Endstate abandoned, along with the Shining Deep in Tartamos and the Endermen Colony in the Nether, with no trace of what happened to them. The Crafters couldn't travel to the End, something was blocking them from entering. Then there came the War of Darkness. By time word had reached King Markin of Delmeirra, it was too late. The Burning Circle had fallen to the Pigmen under the command of the Netherlord, a vicious unknown warlord who had taken control of the Nether, the exact fate of the Netherqueen was unknown, but it was common to concluded the Netherlord had killed her and turned the Pigmen into Zombie Pigmen, undead horrified corpse without remorse or regret. The Netherlord pushed into the Overworld, the Iron Golems destroyed both of their portals in order to protect themselves. The Nether army took Delmine. the Delminnian King, in desperation, turned to a dark power to save his people, the same dark unknown that gave the Netherlord his power. The people of Delminnian were corrupted, just as the Pigmen were, turning them into the undead, craving living flesh. Their king, now the Darkened King lead them, corrupted, and beside the Netherlord, as the combined forces stood to take Delmeirra with one fatal battle at the foot of the Barren Mountain. It was there King Markin united the armies of the Overworld, the warring Northern Tribes, eastern desert clans, and Delmeirra's neighboring kingdoms against the Netherlord. The Diamond King, as Werrim mainly heard him called, mainly cause of the pure Diamond Armor and Sword he wielded, made by the Crafters and imbued with magical powers by the Enchanters, the magical children of the Endermen and Overworlders. Werrim heard many different versions of the battle, but the common theme was that at the Barren's Edge, the two forces collided, with Overworlders, men, Crafters and Enchanters, fought the monstrous army of Zombie Pigmen and their mighty Ghast war beasts, the Blazes were never seen that day or any day since. after two days of constant battle, the Overworlders drove back the forces of the Nether to the Burning Circle, where the Diamond King gave his life to seal it. The Darkened King's forces were driven deep underground. There was peace, and to make sure this new peace continued, King Joull, Markin's brother, condemned and outlawed everything that brought this war about, the Endermen, who connected the worlds, the Crafters, who failed to stop the Netherlord, and the Enchanters, whose rogues allowed the Delminnian King to turn his subjects into the undead. The Crafters and Enchanters in one fatal swoop were killed, never to be seen again and if any returned, they will meet only death. Or so Werrim thought. Something that Werrim was still deciding on.

Werrim lately had been questioning the tales of the Elder Days. He had been told that the Crafters were extinct, the Enchanters were all killed, but he knew that wasn't true. Not ever since Werrim slipped off the barn roof and didn't fall. Not since he watched the deep gash of knife through his leg healed like magic. Not since he turned his pen into a dagger just by willing it to. Not since he found out he was a Crafter. Probably the last, but how could he be sure.

Werrim wanted to tell his family, but he knew that the Order of Black Stars would come and kill them all. He had heard of them doing that to those who were secret Enchanters, killing the entire family so the bloodline wouldn't continue. The Order crossed all kingdoms, even to the Moonlands across the Nighten Sea, it's sole purpose to erase any trace of the Endermen and their creations. So Werrim kept his powers a secret, but he didn't suppress it. No he was afraid of an accident one day and his secret getting loose. So he practiced. He starting honing his skill. He found out pretty quickly that Crafters could not create objects out of thin air. No, he could only recreate, turn one thing, like a log, into another, into several spears. He was able to reform and reshape things that were dead, without life. He tried to turn a squirrel into stone, didn't work. But everyday he practiced. Werrim was getting better at it. It took less energy from him to create simple objects, although complex objects, like a carriage or a house, drained him completely. he figured it was like a muscle, the more you used, the stronger it got. He also found the creating was only one part of his powers, along with flying, he was able to destroy. He was able to completely erase most small objects, with larger objects that exploded into dozens of pieces. Werrim was starting to enjoy the Crafter's power, although he was absolute on his resolve to be careful, letting no one see him practice his powers.

Before Werrim knew it, the day faded to night, most of the Black Stem hay and surrounding hay was being gathered into a giant bonfire. Werrim watched his hands in a special bucket to get rid of the Black Stem slime. After hanging up his scythe, Werrim headed to the main house with his father, while the farm hands left for their dwelling scattered across the estate and surrounding woods. As they grew closer to the house, the taunting aroma of fresh rolls and stew hit Werrim, making his and his father's stomachs growl in anticipation.

Karhand chuckled. "Nothing like your mama's cooking to make a grown man weep for it."

Werrim smiled. "As long as Vally didn't make anything, we should be good."

"What's wrong with your younger sister's cooking?"Karhand asked as he opened the door.

"Remember when she put mud in the stew." Werrim countered as they entered the house and hung their long coats and boots on the rack.

"Well it was crunchy, I'll have to give her that." Karhand answered as they stepped into the kitchen.

Bessa Norn just then came sweeping through, with a pot of hot stew in her mitts. Karhand seized his wife by the stomach as she set it down, lifting and twirling her through the air. "Karhand Inneral Norn!" She laughed. "Put me down, I haven't finished setting the table yet. Vally! can you bring the silverware?"

Werrim sat down at his usual seat as Vally came out the kitchen, tightly clutching a fistful of silverware, with Aless right behind her, carrying roll pan and complaining as usual.

"I don't see we don't have maids and handservants to do this. I mean honestly, why don't hire a few. I'm sure there has to be a few peasants in need of work." Werrim rolled his eyes. Aless usually complained and moaned about these sort of things. She seemed to think that she was secretly meant to be a Royalborn but wasn't mistakenly born to the Norns, but Werrim knew better. Aless wanted free up her time so should she could learn how to fight. She had inherited their Northern ancestors warrior spirit along with its looks.

Aless had long tightly braided black hair and fierce brown eyes that were determined to challenge anything possible. Werrim had observed her secretly practicing sword fighting with Allahan Graess. She was pretty good, able to take on some of the more experienced soldiers. If only she knew of Werrim's secret. Werrim did wonder if his Crafter abilities extended from his family, and would his sisters get it as well. Ok maybe Vally, Werrim was pretty sure that if Aless was a Crafter he would have found out.

"You could marry King Heinrall." Werrim taunted. Aless made a face. "That old geezer, I rather marry an Endermen."

"Aless!" Bessa said, shocked. "there is no need to talk that way."

"What's an Endermen?" Vally asked in the midst of serving herself some rolls. "Is Aless really going to marry one?"

Karhand coughed, trying to mask his laughter. Bessa shot him a look. Werrim and Aless just silently chuckled.

"No dear, Aless is not going to marry an Endermen." Bessa replied.

"But what is an Endermen?" Vally pressed.

"Endermen are monsters as tall as trees, that can sneak into your room at night through the shadows and steal you away and feed you to the Pigmen!" Aless said as creepily as she could.

Vally's face went pale white. "Mom!" She cried.

"Aless, stop scaring your sister." Bessa ordered calmly. She turned to her youngest child. "Endermen are an ancient people from the Elder Days. They are source of the troubles and evil in the world and nothing good came from their creation."

 _Except maybe your son_ , Werrim thought, clutching his fist underneath the table. Ever since he found out he was Crafter, Werrim found himself more defensive of them for some reason.

"That's right." Karhand agreed. He turned to his wife. "there is a caravan from the Blood Lands coming in tomorrow to Jerrrot. I'm going to be taking Werrim with me, is there anything you would want?"

Bessa sighed. "I wish you would stop wasting money on these old age magic tricks. You know those potions and brews come from Enchanters hiding out in the Blood Lands." she argued.

"Well, we need to find something to cure our crops from Black Stem, and the horses are showing signs of fire clot." Karhand argued back. "That bone meal worked wonders with the wheat fields, and I was hoping to get some more for the hay fields."

Bessa only huffed, not furthering the argument. "I'll send Aless with a list. You know how those people creep me out."

Werrim had no idea why the dark skinned people from the Blood Lands, a vast eastern desert that was rich with minerals like salt, tin, silver and iron, freaked out Mother so much. He found it really amusing.

"Just be careful." Bessa warned. "don't pay anymore than what you need you to."

Karhand nodded. "I know." He turned to Werrim. "Make sure to remind me that we need some wood for the barn."

Werrim nodded. The rest of the meal went on pretty much the same way, same banter, and same good night. It was tomorrow that would get really interesting.


End file.
